


Holding the Stars in My Hands

by fishstickcode (bodytoflame)



Category: The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodytoflame/pseuds/fishstickcode
Summary: Hazel muses on a near-death experience.
Relationships: Past/Referenced Hazel/Gus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Holding the Stars in My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is very old. I wrote this when I was 13 and never posted it because I thought it sucked. 13 year old me had this to say: "I wrote this in 20 minutes. Maybe enjoy it."

I thought that, _finally_ , I would be with you again, but I am not done yet. I have to keep fighting. It's what I do. It's what I've done for years. What I'll keep doing as long as I have to. As long as I can. I don't give up. It's not in my blood. I fight. And I win. Lying here, it didn't matter what had happened. I was back in my deepest fantasies:

  * Support group didn't suck.
  * ANTM played all day, every day.
  * I could breathe.
  * Van Houten wasn't a jerk.
  * Isaac wasn't blind.
  * Augustus wasn't dead.
  * I wasn't dying.



_But I_ _was. Everything was the opposite._

  * Support group sucked. A lot.
  * I was lucky if I could catch _one_ episode of ANTM.
  * I couldn't breathe... _well_.
  * Van Houten was an ass.
  * Isaac was blind, and robot eyes were still not invented.
  * Augustus was gone.
  * I was going to be soon.



You don't realize you can't breathe at first when it starts, but then you're trying, and trying, and _trying_ , but the air will barely move. You can't do anything as your lungs are screaming. Your head starts to pound and your vision gets spots, you get dizzy. It's not too bad at first, you know? But then 30 seconds goes by, and then 31, 32; and as your mom whips out her phone to call 911, you know you'll already have passed out by the time they can help you. And you wonder, _Is this it? Can they help me this time? Is it all over?_

God knows I wanted it to be over. I've always wanted it to be over. My life has just been a series of one so-called miracle after another. And for what? I've accepted the fact that I probably won't live to 80, 70, or even 30; I just have to deal with the time I have. I've actually accepted it for a few years, but it's different now. I don't know what's motivating me to stay alive anymore. I know that I probably won't go to college, or get a job, or get married and have kids. I will never have another epic love story like ours.

You were my once in a lifetime chance to have a normal life as a normal teenager, drunk on love. Or at least that's what everyone else saw it as: two hormonal teenagers. But I know, and you knew, that it was much more than that. When I was with you I could see so many things that I knew were impossible: a cure, a long life. But even as I lie here, in this hospital bed, not able to even breathe for myself properly, I know that one day it might be possible, for someone else, who won't have to go through what I have. To have loved and lost --lost myself, and the one person who understood me. And like I've said, Augustus: I like my choices. I love them. I love you.

I'm so glad I was able to find my little infinity with you; I wouldn't wish it any other way. We were--are--just two broken kids that found happiness with each other; someone to dull the pain of all that we've lost, but not in vain. I know that everything happens for a reason. After my time, though short, with you, I know that to be especially true. I admit I've often wondered, "Why me?", even though I know no one is going to answer me. That's okay with me. I know, deep down, my heart knows the answer, even if it won't tell it to me, and I just have to trust my instincts. If my instincts told me to walk towards the light, towards you, hell, I'd run. For now I guess I'll just have to keep fighting. Like I always have. I can't see the future, but I know this: I know one day my lungs will give up and I'll take my last breath; I just don't know when. As I hold these stars in my hands, memories and wishes of a life, I know that these thoughts are ones only you could have, so Gus; I know you're with me now. One day I'll return them to the night sky.


End file.
